A Christmas Pondering

A slightly satirical and sarcastic point of view about Christmas.

            Christmas?  What do I think of when I hear that word?  Popping out of people’s mouths, blaring from your television four months before the actual event (which is seeming to be earlier and earlier each year), the generic “Happy Holidays” bleated by the cheery, too bright-eyed salesclerks.  Driving down the street, blinking lights garishly lit in scattered yards like a night at the carnival and the busloads of people instantly slowing down and gawking, oooing and awwwing.  The emaciated, darkly clothed Salvation Army bell-ringers, shivering with their red santa hats and aprons which hardly protects them from the bitter cold.  Dimly ringing a bell, standing by a red chamber pot hitched to a chain, suspended in mid-air, hoping against hope that someone will drop a coin or two.  Balefully gazing at each shopper passing by, a pasty smile, a slow blink of the eye, signs of frost seeping into their minds.  The bell must be heard in their dreams, incessantly ringing causing a deep coldness to settle in their bones, an eternal nightmare or never-waking dream.  Stores are full of brightly colored decorations; ribbons, bows, ornaments, tinsel, candles, wrapping paper and so on.  All made to attract the ever efficient shopper looking for a good bargain.  Each store hoping to out price the other.  Aisles and aisles full of garish red signs, shouting prices that are supposedly cheaper than their competitor.  People pushing, shoving, racing to the sales, hoarding all they can in their little steel carts.  Some go by and they are piled high, teetering with boxes that boast delight and satisfaction.

            You wonder what the people are thinking.  Have they gone mad?  Dashing here and there, never stopping to savor the sweet, earthly smell of pine?  The tender chorus’s softly playing in the background, singing of a sweet baby boy?  The gathering of close friends and sharing laughter and good times?  Where are the stopping moments?  The instances of momentary illumination, that this is what Christmas is all about?  Are they disappearing?  I walk in a store, aimlessly wandering the aisles searching for that perfect gift, when I discover a child.  Barely over five years old.  She is angelic with her round, blue eyes and cherub cheeks, her pink, hooded fur coat that makes you think of cotton candy, sweet and soft.  Her little red patent leather shoes, shiny and new, not matching the yellow corduroy pants and the peeks of a lime green sweater, dressing with the eclecticness and talent that only a child has.  She is playing in the aisles of stuffed animals, clutching a fuzzy brown bear, smiling and cooing to him.  She gazes at me and bestows a beautific smile, complete with a missing tooth, lighting her eyes and cheeks.  Introducing me to “Mr. Bear,” she pulls me into her magical world where stuffed, fuzzy bears are alive and well, speaking with the utmost clarity.  Where happiness and light abound.  Tinkles of laughter escape her pouty lips and soothe a space inside me that I wasn’t aware was there.  It seems like eternity, but has only lasted thirty seconds, a mere blip in time as a loud, anguished motherly voice comes shouting around the corner of the aisle.  I step back and smile at the harried mother, grateful that this child gave me such a peace.  I wonder if the mother ever noticed?  If she ever knew what she beheld everyday when she cleaned up after her, dressed her in the morning, yelled at her for doing something that, by adult standards, is unbearably bad?  Does she know of the angel who could give her peace and contentment if only she allowed it?  Especially during one of the most hectic, fast-paced times of the year?  I doubt it.  Rarely does anyone notice.

            I only noticed by mistake.  Something that just caught my attention and I could not break away even if I had tried.  Christmas seems to fly by in a whirlwind of activity, rarely appreciated for what it provides and gives.